


so wrong that I need you

by kelios



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sam/Dean unrequited, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelios/pseuds/kelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Dean can't have what he really wants, so he takes what he can get.<br/>A/N: written for the prompt Coach!Dean/Legal cheerleader at http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/</p>
            </blockquote>





	so wrong that I need you

Even though the kid is 18--legal in all fifty states--Dean shouldn't be doing this. He knows he shouldn't be doing it, knows what Sam would think if he ever found out Dean was screwing a cheerleader for Christ's sake, and he hates himself just a little for taking this instead of what he really wants.

But he does it anyway. Stays late after school every day. Helps out with cheerleading practice. And every day he waits for the kid to come to his office and lock the door. 

Today is the last day. Case is over, mystery solved, but Dean couldn't leave without saying goodbye, without having this one last time. He lays the kid out on his desk and kisses him, soft, passionate, caring. He's determined to make this last, to sear the memory into his mind: long brown hair, hazel eyes, miles of golden skin, and legs that go on forever wrapped around his waist as he pushes into tight slick heat. He loses himself in the moment in a way he hasn't let himself before, gasps out "Sam!" as he comes, and hopes the kid was too caught up in his own pleasure to notice. 

Later, after the kid leaves, he straightens up the office, aimlessly moving papers and pens and junk from one spot to another. He knows he should go, but he can't bring himself to leave. He's not sure what he's going to say to Sam, how he's going to act as though nothing is changed, nothing is wrong. He sits at the desk, lost in memory, until his phone rings and he hears Sam's worried voice, asking where he is. 

He sighs, then squares his shoulders, puts on the familiar cocky grin that he wears like armor against the world. Time to face the music.


End file.
